Souvenirs

Last day of holiday
My final twenty dollars in hand
I go in search of a memento
Something to show my friends
I tell myself
To represent this magical place
When once the salt has washed away
And my tan dissolved in graying skies.
My eye is drawn
To the superstore
Right next to our hotel
Here in Vacationland
Promising “Old Time Candies”
In sickly sweet lettering on its
Unassuming sheet metal siding
And next to that
A flashing neon beacon
Scrolling siren specials of the day
Fireworks and stun guns
Throwing stars
Ninja swords
High-powered rifles
And of course
A lively line
Of tasers.
My own piece of America.
I ponder briefly which of these
Would be permitted in my
Carry-on baggage
And opt reluctantly
For lemon drops.